


Kirk's Lament

by hopevandyke



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopevandyke/pseuds/hopevandyke
Summary: Jim Kirk has the hots for Spock, and Sulu, Chekov, and McCoy help him out a bit. Written with TOS in mind, but kept vague enough to apply to both TOS and AOS.





	Kirk's Lament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonesmctightass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thirst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040459) by [bonesmctightass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass). 
  * Inspired by [Thirst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040459) by [bonesmctightass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass). 



> This was inspired by the great bonesmctighass's fic, Thirst (http://archiveofourown.org/works/11040459), and also by my own, very Russian grandmother's advice to always drink before talking about emotions.

::Captain’s Personal Log:: Stardate: 658.34

  
_It’s been three months on this ship. Three months in space. Three months, and I think G-d is punishing me for something. I have a few ideas as to what that something might be, but I refuse to incriminate myself here. My only solace is that Bones has so far been willing to put up with my mournful laments. In return, I have been paying better attention to my health, and allowing him to poke and prod me with his medical torture devices with minimal complaint. Minimal, not none, I still have my pride._

  
_I think it’s that pride that keeps getting in my way, or perhaps it’s my “emotional cowardice” as Yeoman Rand puts it. I can’t help it, though, I know I put on a brave, macho façade in public, but that’s just flirting, flirting with someone you don’t really care about is easy. When it comes to real love I’m still the same blushing Iowa farm boy I’ve always been. It’s easy to kiss Gary Mitchell for fun behind Dad’s old tractor, but it’s infinitely harder to talk to Jenny Mathews in English class. And it’s damn near impossible to talk to Spock, at least talk to him like that, and he doesn’t even have pretty, blond curls or a fun, blue glitter pen._

  
_No, what Spock has is indescribable. Sure, I could wax poetic about his every detail, and I have, but if asked what made me love him I’m not sure I could pin down anything as the sole reason. I remember once my parents telling me that there was no definite reason why they were in love, just that they were soulmates, and I wonder sometimes if that is what Spock and I could be._

  
;;End Personal Log::

  
Kirk sighed as he stood up with a creak of his knees and a soft breath of protest from his favorite desk chair. It was 0700, one hour until the start of Alpha Shift, and that allowed for just enough time to eat breakfast, shower, approve last minute bits of paperwork, and do all the various little things that are required from a starship captain before the work had even begun.

  
Fifteen minutes before the start of the morning shift, Jim Kirk called a hello through his First Officer’s door, cup of coffee in one hand, and a half finished digital stack of paperwork on a PADD in the other. Spock emerged a moment later, hair heartbreakingly perfect, eyebrows manicured beyond a dream, and the barest hint of what Jim could swear was purple eyeshadow shimmering with every slow blink of his eye.

  
_‘Oh, I’ve really got it bad, haven’t I?’_ Jim thought to himself in yet another sudden fit of hopeless pining for his First Officer. As he stood, lost in Spock’s eyes, Jim suddenly felt warm fingertips brushing the back of his hand as it gently pulled the PADD away from him.

  
“I have already taken the liberty of completing the paperwork requests for today, Captain,” Spock said in his usual, rumbling tone that always managed to set Jim’s heart to sway.

  
“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Jim said with a clear of his throat, trying in vain to stifle his blush as he turned to walk towards the lift. He only just barely managed to stop himself from leaning into Spock as they moved, in almost perfect unison, as was slowly becoming the new normal on their ship.

  
***

  
“Have you noticed anything strange about the Keptin lately?” Chekov hissed towards Sulu, leaning over in his chair quickly while his COs were busy behind him, lost in a nearly infinite loop of complimenting each other after yet another near-miss of a diplomatic incident.

  
Sulu gave a half smile across the gap between them, leaned in just as close and muttered in a stage whisper, “you are ready, young one. Meet me in McCoy’s office after shift. There you will learn all that you wish to know.” He then slid back into his chair as if nothing strange had just occurred. Next to him, Chekov tried inexpertly to do the same, wondering if perhaps this was yet another game he had missed while studying as a child.

  
The rest of his shift seemed to drag on much longer than usual, and after shift Chekov shuffled into Sickbay. The way Sulu and McCoy were already sitting seriously around McCoy’s desk, wearing practiced neutral faces and too-stiff relaxed poses, reminded him horribly of coming home from school and receiving a house of mourning for his grandmother’s passing.

  
“Vhat is going on vith ze Keptin?” Chekov said, widening his eyes and pouting softly in his best puppy dog look that he had learned usually got him whatever he wanted.

  
“Our Jimmy-boy is in love,” Bones said with a grim face, glancing at the clock on his desk before sitting up in his chair. “And we have about five minutes before he comes in here to complain about his love, so sit down and we’ll bring you up to speed.”

  
Chekov fell into the nearest chair that Sulu had pulled up for him and listen in dawning horror and confusion as the past three months of Kirk’s unending complaints of his pining were relayed to him.

  
“I invited Sulu in on this little pity party a few weeks ago. Between the two of us we have the most experience when it comes to romance,” McCoy said with a sigh as he began to pour them all a glass of scotch from his private collection. “And I’m sure you can help to,” he added as an afterthought with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  
“Vhy does ze Keptin not just tell Mr. Spock his feelings for him?” Chekov frowned at his drink before taking a thoughtful sip

.  
It was then that Captain Kirk himself flopped as dramatically as he could into the one remaining chair. He waved off Chekov’s silent offer of scotch and slouched in a such a languid manner that he eventually managed so that he was almost lounging upside-down in the chair, his left foot close to brushing Sulu’s shoulder, and his right hand gripping the base of McCoy’s desk. Sulu took the opportunity to pour himself another glass of scotch as he shifted his chair so that he could both avoid the possibility of a too energetic movement sending the captain’s foot flying, and to get a better view of the other man’s upside-down face.

  
“Because the captain is an idiot?” Sulu suggested, his words blunt, but his tone as gentle as he could make it.

  
“Because the captain is an idiot,” Kirk agreed with a barely contained sigh.

  
Chekov offered another glass of scotch to Kirk’s free hand, and smiled softly when it was taken, “drink, Keptin. Zat vill help.” Kirk sat up with a slight huff and took a sip of the twice-offered drink, frowning at the taste.

  
“Couldn’t spare any of the good stuff for your best friends here, Bones?” Kirk said with a slightly forced smirk.

  
“I’ll break out the good stuff when you and the hobgoblin finally decide to behave.”

  
“I am behaving. As best I can anyway. I’ve been keeping my distance!” Kirk argued as a knowing glance passed between the rest of the room.

  
“Captain,” Sulu cleared his throat. “Jim, if all this has been you keeping your distance, you and Spock are going to fuse into a single being when you finally do end up together.”

  
Chekov shifted slightly in his chair, “I think my question still stands, Keptin.”

  
“It does, Chekov, it does,” Kirk sighed as he quickly downed the rest of his drink. “I haven’t told him because I’m an idiot, and feelings are complex, terrifying things. There, is that what you all want to hear?”

  
“Yes,” Chekov smiled, much to the surprise of all in the room. “You must now face your problems like a true Russian,” he beamed as he took Kirk’s hand and pulled him to his feet in a half embrace. “It is exactly as my grandma told me, and you hawe finished ze first step, zhat is ze drinking. Now to ze second: you must talk to Mr. Spock, and prepare for either step three, or a move to Siberia.”

  
There was a moment of motionless silence around the room as Sulu and McCoy waited with baited breath to see if their latest effort to get the captain off their backs would work.  
Kirk frowned in concentration before sighing out his reply, “what is step three?”

  
Chekov released the captain and took a step back with a wide grin still plastered on his face, “step three is when you kiss ze Spock, but first there is step two.”

  
The silence in the room lasted for a few moments longer as all eyes remained on Kirk, before they snapped to Chekov once their captain left, just as, if not more, dramatically as he had entered.

  
“Russian grandmothers are always right,” he shrugged in answer to the unasked question. “Zhis is a fact all men know.”

  
***

  
Jim stood in the hall outside McCoy’s office for a few moments as he willed his racing heart to as calm a beat as he could, taking in shuddering deep breaths, and holding in the last one for a few more fluttered beats of his heart before pulling out his personal com.

  
**‘I’m going to spend some time in the Lounge on Deck 3. Care to join me in a game of chess?’** he tapped out on the com after psyching himself out of an actual verbal call and instead sending the message as a direct line of text.

  
**‘I will see you there in ten minutes, Captain.’** Came the immediate reply, Spock’s fingers spurred into quick action by the internal Klaxon alarms ringing in his head upon receiving any form of contact from his captain.

  
‘Emotions are difficult and terrible things,’ Jim thought to himself, sighing as he pocketed his com and began to make his way towards the Lounge on Deck 3, silently cursing and thanking both Chekov and Chekov’s grandmother, just as many had done before, and would continue to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I was originally going to add more, but then I looked at the word count and took it as a sign to stop. <3 Sami


End file.
